She Loves the Way He Lies
by AmbyrRose
Summary: What if Tori had never gone out with Daniel? What if nobody knew who he really was? Rated T for physical abuse and some language when Beck loses it.
1. Crushed

**AN: Got the idea after listening to Arianna Grande's "Love the Way You Lie". Can't imagine how anyone could hurt sweet little Cat, but an interesting thought.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious.**

Prologue: Crushed

Nobody saw. Nobody took the time to notice. Except him.

He had been watching her, of course. He would deny it, if asked. Not that anybody would. They were all too wrapped up in their own lives. But, if only for jealousy's sake, he watched. And he saw.

The first few weeks were bliss. She radiated contentment, beaming and glowing and skipping wherever she went. Liquid brown eyes shone, and cherry lip gloss curled into a smile. He felt like his heart was ripping, but he silently wished her all the happiness she deserved and let her go.

Until the bruises surfaced.

The first time, it was her wrists. She'd reared back to slap someone in an improv skit, and her sleeve fell. For a fraction of a second, thick purple smudges marred the creamy skin around delicate veins. Then her hand moved with a _crack_, and they were gone.

Naturally, he'd imagined it. His jealousy was running away with him. Besides, who could ever hurt _her_?

They faded. He didn't ask and she didn't say. A compact of stage makeup fell from her backpack a few days later, but it was theater class, for God's sake – of course she had stage makeup. After all, they were almost entirely gone; knowing her she'd fallen while wearing those ridiculous shoes. They were innocent.

Until they resurfaced.

He supposed he should be grateful the boy had tripped, even if she cried out in pain as scalding coffee hit her arm. Because if he hadn't, the thick, clay-like makeup wouldn't have melted, and he wouldn't have seen them. Darker than before, with a distinctive shape that punched him in the gut.

Black-and-blue fingerprints. If he'd placed his own over them, he would be near crushing her arms.

He kept an even closer watch from then on, if that was possible. He didn't speak, of course; even after the breakup, girls still seemed far away, off-limits. Especially her. So he watched the light dull in her eyes, the makeup get thicker and heavier until some days she was barely recognizable. He watched her bright fidgeting turn to nervous twitching, flinching if someone raised their voices a hair's breadth.

And then one day she didn't come to school at all, the girl who was never sick, who had too much sunshine inside to even have a cough. And that was when he knew. It _had_ to stop.


	2. Shattered

Shattered

Cat wasn't exactly listening to Sikowitz. It was a pretty day, with sunshine like melted butter pouring over the world and cotton candy clouds floating lazily on the breeze. They made her happy, like puppies and kitties and bright-colored sweaters and daisies like the ones Jade liked cutting up with scissors because Jade wasn't a happy person –

The bell rang, and she jumped up for lunch. Maybe she could get a salad, and a cupcake too. Sikowitz was saying something about researching fudge for homework, but she was already out the door.

He was waiting for her, just outside the door. He caught her wrist and she winced reflexively. Just a little. He let go instantly, though, and she brightened as she saw who it was. "Oh, hey Beck!"

He smiled, but it seemed a little uneasy. "Can I talk to you? Maybe in the Box Theater?"

She perked up. "Kay-kay!" Beck had been acting . . . weird, to say the least, since he broke up with Jade. Maybe she would find out what was wrong.

He didn't touch her again, but held the Theater door open for her when they got there. She almost sat down, but he didn't seem like he was going to, so she stood awkwardly, waiting. He seemed totally fascinated with his boots, for some reason. Well, they were cool. Maybe he just got them. She loved looking at her new shoes. Still . . . "So what's up?" she prompted.

He took a deep breath. "You trust me, right?"

Her brow creased. "Well, yeah . . ." But before she could ask why, he'd leaned forward and kissed her.

Fireworks. That was the first thing that sprang into her mind. Fireworks, and new leather, and a thousand sun-kissed days on the beach . . .

Daniel brought her back. Daniel, and a cold, wet feeling on her left eye.

"Beck!" she sprang back, horrified. "What –? Why would you _do_ that?" But wait – what was that in his hand? A paper towel? And covering it were smudges of horribly familiar shades of peach and blue.

"I knew it," he said, low and horrified.

"No!" Clapping a hand over her eye, she looked around frantically for her compact, her purse, even someone else's compact, anything to hide the brilliant purple ringing her eye. Nothing. Sheer panic set in. "No, no, no, no, _no, no NO!_"

Beck held up his hands in wary surrender. "Easy, Cat –"

"What did you do, what did you _do_? Oh, where's my stuff, I need it, I gotta cover up, you _didn't_ –"

"Cat, calm down!"

"I gotta get back," she babbled, stumbling forward and looking around wildly, still off-balance with only one eye. "He's coming for lunch and he doesn't like seeing me like this and I left my stuff in Sikowitz's room and he can't see me like this either because _I can't believe you DID that_ . . ."

She was still blubbering and probably would have passed out for lack of oxygen if Beck hadn't blocked the door and forced her to meet his eyes, his hands almost but not quite touching her shoulders. "Cat. It's gonna be all right. You're still beautiful. Just sit down and talk to me, okay?"

She bit her lip, her doe-like eyes brimming with tears. But she nodded, and he cautiously sat down on the row of seats with her. He let her calm down first, and for a moment the only sound was her soft sniffling.

"Why?" she finally asked in a very small voice.

"I had to know, and I don't think you would have washed your face if I'd just asked nicely." He touched her fingertips carefully. "Forgive me?"

She sniffed, took the paper towel from his other hand, and dabbed at her eyes. "Mm-hmm."

He really wasn't sure what to say. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"What do you mean, _why what_? Why are you still with him? Why would he _do_ that, why would you let him?" Beck struggled to keep his voice below a shout. "Don't you _care_ about yourself?"

"Of course I do, Beck," she said earnestly, folding her hands in her lap. "But I love him. And he loves me too."

"Oh yeah, because there's no better way to say 'I love you' than breaking your face!"

It came out sharper than he'd intended, and she jumped slightly. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a harsh breath, trying to calm himself. "Just – just start at the beginning. When did it start?"

"It was my fault," she said instantly, unwilling as a child to get anybody else in trouble. "We were at the beach, and a couple guys started flirting with me. Daniel gets jealous – he's protective, he didn't like seeing me with them. So he lost his cool on the car ride home."

"Let me give you a hint, Cat," he said, unable to keep a little iron out of his tone. It wasn't aimed at her, not really – it was aimed at the boy whose death he was imagining over and over, each time a little more painful. "When a guy is really jealous, he hits the other guy, not the girl he swears he loves."

She was starting to get mad. "How could you say that? You don't even know him! And he was so sweet afterwards – he bought me flowers!"

"So if he leaves a slap mark, you get roses? What do you get for bruises, chocolates?"

She jumped up with a dainty cry of frustration. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

He really didn't want to do this, as he wasn't sure what would happen, but it seemed he had no choice. He stood slowly, as if with a spooked horse. "Cat, I need you to listen to me." He slowly reached into his pocket, pulled out a compact mirror, and flipped it open at her. "I'm not the one with a problem."

She stared at her reflection for a moment, utterly frozen, Bambi eyes as wide as possible with one spectacularly swollen and purpled. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't what came next.

She screamed. He fumbled the mirror, and it fell and shattered at his feet into a thousand pieces. Cat didn't notice

"_Omigod_, I look _awful_! Oh, I have to go back, I need my makeup, he'll never forgive me, he hates me like this –" She shrieked again. "_He's gonna be here any minute!_ Oh, I gotta go, never again, _never again_ –" Struggling to prevent tears, she brushed past Beck and took off down the hall, high heels _click-click click-click_ing a staccato rhythm as she stumbled blindly to lunch.

"Cat – Cat, wait!" Beck called, but it was no use. She was gone.

_Never again, never again_. He wasn't sure exactly what she'd meant by that, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with him. So he sat with his head in his hands, alone in the theater, with his heart pounding out _never again, never again, never again . . ._


	3. Broken

Broken

Beck arrived at lunch just in time to see Cat fly into the arms of a dark-haired boy with pierced ears with a shriek. "_Daniel!_"

He laughed, rubbing her back. "Hey babe, where you been?"

André, Tori, Jade and Robbie heard a question; Beck heard an interrogation. Vanilla-sweet lips flashed across his mind; he forced them back, unable to resist a glance at Cat. Her eyes widened innocently, but didn't meet either boy's. "Oh . . . around."

He should've known she'd be a horrible liar. He wanted so badly to hold her hand, tell the monster exactly who he was and that Cat wasn't in this alone. Still, he knew it would accomplish nothing, so he bit down on his tongue until the taste of blood kept him silent.

"You know I hate waiting, babe," Daniel whined playfully, wrapping an arm around her thin shoulders. She buried her face in his sweatshirt.

"Sorry, Danny," she said, her voice muffled.

He squeezed her shoulders extra-tight and looked over at Tori. "So what's the school play about, again?"

Lunch settled into the same everyday rhythm. Jade sniped at Tori and pointedly ignored Beck, André played a song that made "Li'l Red" squeal in delight, Rex hit on girls and Robbie was slapped for it. Typical – but Beck saw none of it. He was hyperaware of every movement between Cat and Daniel, every shared gesture, ever brush of his hand on her thigh or her hand on his shoulder.

It was a wonder he still had a grip on his sanity by the time Trina came along.

"Hi, Tori's friends!" she said cheerfully, slamming Robbie's head into his salad and promptly taking his seat. "'Sup?"

There were all-around groans and a bark of "Go away!" from Jade. Ignoring this with ease, she flipped open her wallet and yanked out a plastic card. "Guess what I got?"

Half a grin tugged on Daniel's lips. "Well, hey there. Haven't seen you around before."

Trina's eyes flickered over him, and in a snap her flirtatious smile was securely in place. "Hi. Trina Vega, Tori's older, hotter sister." She laughed lightly. One look at Tori's face and the giggles died in her throat.

"If by 'hotter' you mean 'totally obnoxious'," Rex interjected – and followed Robbie into the salad.

"Trina," Tori said through gritted teeth, "I think you should leave. Now."

Trina pouted. "But I wanted to show you my –"

"GO!" Jade exploded, slamming her fist down. Trina jumped up, wide-eyed.

"Okay, okay! Jeez . . ." She turned on heel and strutted away, head held high and coffee clutched between manicured talons like a trophy. Robbie watched her go, sighing and wiping Thousand Island off his glasses.

"Man, one of these days . . ."

Beck wasn't watching Trina. He was watching Daniel watching Trina. Or more accurately, Trina's butt. Cat, telling Robbie for the umpteenth time that a _stage_ kiss wasn't a _real_ kiss, mercifully didn't notice.

Beck burned.

As Robbie started bickering with Rex over his chances with Trina, Daniel turned his attention back to Cat, who was now pulling her china plate from the café toward herself. It held a single red velvet cupcake, complete with whipped cream frosting and chocolate shavings decorating the top. She squeaked. Beck smiled. Daniel snorted.

"You're not really gonna eat that, are you?"

Cat's face fell. "Well, yeah I was," she said uncertainly. "Look how yummy it looks."

He smirked. "Whatever you say, babe," he said lightly, pinching her waist. How he could have, Beck had no idea; the girl only weighed ninety pounds, for God's sake. There was nothing _to_ pinch. But to Cat, it was like a stab; biting her lip, she looked down at the cupcake, blinking rapidly. And she shoved it away, so hard the plate went over the edge. Shards flew, broken pieces forming a starburst on the ground. No one noticed. They were too busy talking.

"Dude." André's voice brought Beck back to earth. "You all right?"

Beck looked down at his hands. Rice was bleeding between his fingers. He had massacred his burrito. "Ugh." He threw the sticky mess down and stood, shaking off his hands. "I gotta go."

"Where?" Tori called after him, but he was already halfway across the parking lot, truck keys in hand.

. . .

"Your fight scenes will be due in one week, and I want them _fantastic_!" Sikowitz said, pacing fanatically in front of the class. "I want slaps! I want kicks! I want punches, hits, blows to the general bodily area! Needless violence, people, the more the better!"

André's eyebrows shot up. "Since when did you get so violent?"

Sikowitz snorted. "Me, violent? Who do you think I am, Jade?" He flipped to a specific sheet on his clipboard and pulled reading glasses from his pocket, completely ignoring the identical glasses already perched atop his head. "So . . . partners. André and Robbie, Sinjin and Morris, Cat and Tor–"

From the back of the room, Beck cleared his throat pointedly. He hefted the sack of coconuts, swinging them tantalizingly.

Sikowitz sighed. "Cat and _Beck_, Tori and Jade . . ."

The bell rang, but for once Cat wasn't the first one out. She hung back, staring at Beck, openly curious. Hastily stashing the coconuts under his chair for Sikowitz to find later, he stood and stretched, striving for casual. She crossed her arms, unconvinced. For someone who still believed in the Tooth Fairy, she could be pretty perceptive. "You don't fool me," she said matter-of-factly.

He studied her. She was sticking her jaw out ridiculously far, puffing out her lower lip and straining her chin out as far as possible. "What are you _doing_?"

The look disappeared into familiar wide-eyed honesty. "Trying to look tough."

"Oh." He strove to keep his face expressionless, biting his cheek to head off laughter. "Very . . . convincing."

The puffer-fish-with-a-jaw-problem-expression popped back up. "Good. I know you did something. And if you even talk about Daniel, I'll . . . I'll . . ." Threats were not her first language. "I'll do _something_ bad. Something you won't like."

He nodded meekly. "I'll try to hold back."

"Good." Still attempting to seem fierce, she turned heel and strode out of the room. In two seconds she was back, hesitating at the door. "Hey, Beck? When you said I was beautiful, were you serious?"

He smiled slowly. So she had heard. And she did care. "I've never been more serious in my life."

She smiled then, and it was the old Cat: bubbly, hopeful, blissfully innocent. "Kay-kay!" And in a whirl of red hair, she was gone.

**AN: Sort of a bridge chapter - bit of a letdown after the drama of "Shattered" ;) More to follow, promise! And please - I live off reviews of any kind!**


	4. Fractured

**F****racture****d**

He offered up his RV for practice, every day after school. Every day, he persuaded her, would be just enough, as coordinating a fight scene took exhaustive planning and endless practice. Every day, he reasoned, would be just enough.

Never mind the scene was only thirty seconds long.

They'd hung out in his RV before, of course, but never alone. She was a little awkward at first, worrying her lip and looking at his couch, his TV, his fish tank, everywhere but him.

So after that, he swore that no guy in history ever worked so damn hard to make a girl comfortable.

He went out and rented every Disney fairytale he could to play on the TV as she arrived. He found out her favorite snacks from Tori and stocked the mini-fridge with enough to feed a small army. He did everything humanly possible to make her want to stay as long as she could, and soon, between fake slaps and scribbled scripts, he found their little sessions stretching from a half hour to a full . . . one hour to two . . .

Sometimes it was that long before they even got started. Wednesday, as Beck was holding the door for her, she clambered in and shrieked. He bolted in to find her clapping her hands and dancing on the spot like a child. "Omigod, _The Princess and the Frog_! I _love_ this movie! Can we watch it, Beck, please, please _please_?"

How could he say no to that?

Those were the golden moments he lived for, precious and bittersweet: sitting together on the couch while she sang "Almost There" with a gusto that put Princess Tiana to shame; sloppily scooping peanut butter from the jar with an Oreo because she swore there was no other way to eat it; seriously debating the pros and cons of different kinds of jelly; holding her as she cried because in the heat of the scene she'd accidentally hit him for real. Some days he seriously considered locking the door and never, ever letting her go.

Of course, those idyllic afternoons had to end eventually. She would realize the time and rush home to where Daniel was invariably waiting. And if Beck thought watching her scurry out the door was painful, he was surprised at the rush of acute agony brought on by watching her paint over her pain every time she left. She would stand in front of his mirror, pull out a rainbow of eyeshadows and concealers, and work as quickly and expertly as a professional. She never did it before they started; sometimes she would actually wash her face, revealing a faded yellow eye he had promised not to comment on, to "let it breathe". Only after they ran out of time, when she had to face the wide world again, did the mask go back on.

Something must have showed in his face during one of her makeup sessions, because she paused and turned around. "Sorry," she said quickly, making to shove the compact back in her purse. "I don't have to put in on here, I can do it in the car –"

He shook his head and stood up, taking her hands lightly. It was one of the few times he'd allowed himself to make the first move. "Don't ever apologize. You're just . . ." He struggled for words. "You're not you with all that makeup on."

He'd gotten too close; her eyes slid away from his. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Well no. But . . . I like you."

The atmosphere changed subtly, and from the rose creeping into her cheeks he knew she felt it too. The ghost of their kiss stole across his mind. "Cat," he began hesitantly.

"I gotta go," she said simply, slipping her hands away from his and heading for the door. "Bye."

"Bye," he said, far too late; she was already gone.

He punched the mirror. Fractures spiraled outward, and his knuckles began to bleed, but nothing distracted from the pain.

. . .

He was sprawled out on the couch watching _The Little Mermaid_ because he was a sick masochist who needed to get a life when his phone rang. He pulled it out; Cat's beaming face flashed across the screen. He answered it on the second ring. "Cat?"

There was no answer for a moment, only indiscriminate shouting followed by a heavy _bang_. Amazing how fast one's sanity can fly out the window. "Cat? Cat! Answer me!"

There was a rustling noise. "Hey, Beck. Did you hear that?"

He stood up abruptly, clicking off the TV. "Yeah, I heard that."

"Oh good, so we're on the same page." She didn't sound afraid, just absolutely exhausted. "Look, I don't mean to be pushy, but I've never seen him this mad and I think he might actually hurt me, so do you think maybe you could pick me up?"

He was already snatching up his keys. "On my way. Where are you and where is he?"

"We're at my house." Panic was starting to rise in her voice. "I'm in my room and he's outside and he _really_ wants to get in."

"Lock the door," he said, jumping out the RV and hitting the ground running.

"Okay, but I think he's about to break it down," she said nervously. "Oh, hang on –" There was the sound of someone covering the phone, and a muffled scream of "_That's not a nice word!_" She uncovered the phone. "Seriously, this isn't the strongest door."

Beck revved the truck impatiently. "Push the damn dresser in front of it, just don't let him in! I'm coming!"

"Kay-kay." She sounded much more reassured then he was. "Hurry." She took the phone away from her ear, and Beck realized his mistake.

"No, Cat, don't –" The dial tone cut through his sentence, and he swore and dropped the phone on the seat beside him.

He left skid marks in the street as he floored it.


	5. Cracked

**C****racke****d**

"Where is she?"

Daniel turned – and took an instinctive step back as he met Beck's eyes. "Whoa. How did you get in here?"

Beck grabbed the front of his shirt. "Let me be clear. The only reason you're still able to _walk_ is because she likes you."

A voice came from behind the door opposite them. "Beck? Is that you?"

He let Daniel fall to the floor as he flew to the door. "Cat? Are you okay? Open up, we're leaving."

"Kay-kay." There was a grunt, and something heavy scraped across the floor. Finally there was a loud _click_, and the door swung open to reveal Cat, pale and tired. She was holding a sweater in her hands, and her bare arms were marbled black and blue from where he'd grabbed at her. A red mark on her face had five fingers. She smiled weakly at him. "I moved the dresser like you said."

Beck almost swore again, but the look on her face wouldn't let her. "It's gonna be okay now, Cat. Come on, let's get you out of here." He stretched out an arm, and she folded herself under it.

"Hey, you can't –" Daniel started, but Beck's shoulder connecting with his chest cut him off and sent him flying. He didn't even look down at him; half-leading and half-dragging Cat, he made for the stairs.

By the time he slammed open the front door, he was almost carrying her. When they reached the truck, he opened the door, picked her up, and dropped her lightly onto the seat. "Buckle up," he barked, sliding over the hood and jumping into the driver's seat. He'd left the car door open and the keys in the ignition.

She fumbled with the buckle as he peeled out. Through the rear-view mirror, he saw Daniel sprinting out the door for his car. Good luck. Beck had the strange feeling that if he tried to come after them, the gaping holes in his two front tires would stop him cold.

He shoved his Swiss Army knife back in his pocket and drove.

For a moment, they were silent. Cat was shaking and Beck was fuming, going 60 miles per hour in a 45 zone. "Where do you want me to take you?"

"Tori's house," she said quietly. "She'll let me borrow some pajamas."

"What happened this time?" he asked tensely, his knuckles whitening on the wheel.

"Um . . . you," she whimpered, combing her fingers through her hair.

He swerved out, passed the car in front of him, and swerved back in without missing a beat. "Me? What the hell did I do?"

"You made me happy," she said, in the same small voice.

He slammed his fist against the wheel, seeing red. "God, do you hear yourself? Do you realize what he's _saying_ to you? Do you still think he doesn't have a problem? He's hit you, he's punched you, and he says he _loves_ you? If he's got a problem with you being happy, you're going to be miserable as long as you're with him!"

Her only reply was a soft sniffle. He took his eyes off the road just long enough to look over at her. She was crying silently, tears of mascara streaming down her face from her big brown eyes. He sighed, let off the gas, and pulled over. She didn't say a word. He got out of the car, walked around to her side, and opened the door to really look at her. She studied her nails, avoiding his eyes. He took her hands. "Hey. You're safe now."

And she met his eyes. And she cracked.

She threw her arms around his neck and broke down sobbing, burying her face in his hair. He held her close, rocking slightly back and forth as her shoulders heaved violently. The pathetic mewling noises shaking from her chest made him feel curiously numb, like his heart had been replaced by a slab of lead. But he couldn't have let go for the world, and he kept murmuring, over and over again, "Shh . . . shh . . . it's all right . . ."

Finally, when she had no more tears left, she took a deep, shuddering breath and sat up. He let her go wordlessly, walked back around to his side, shifted into drive and pulled back onto the road as if nothing had happened. They drove on for a few minutes in total silence.

"Hey," she said softly. He looked over, and she met his eye. "Thanks."

Now it was his turn to look away. "No problem. Tori's place is in here on the left, right?"

"Yeah." Cat took the sweater from over her lap and shrugged it on over the bruises. "She won't ask questions, and if she does I'll figure out some excuse."

"She's your best friend, you know. She deserves to know."

"Maybe." Cat's voice was absolutely ragged. "But not tonight."

He let it drop, and they reached the Vega house soon after. "You want me to walk you up?"

"No," she said instantly, opening the door and climbing out. "Sorry, but . . . I really don't want that many questions." He nodded, and she came around to his side of the truck. He rolled his window down, and she blushed slightly. "Thanks, Beck." She leaned in the window and kissed him on the cheek. Beck Oliver actually blushed, and she mustered a giggle. "You're my hero."

He smiled at her, still slightly shell-shocked. "What does that make you, my princess?"

"Yes," she said, as if there had never been any doubt on the matter. "Seeya tomorrow."

"Seeya." And for a boy who'd just driven like a Grand Prix racer, he sure took his sweet time backing out of that driveway.


	6. Whole

**AN: For anyone who read "Cracked" before this was published, please read paragraph ten again, as I edited it and part of this chapter won't make any sense without the edit. Thanks!**

**W****hol****e**

Beck woke up half an hour earlier than usual. He debated picking up Cat for school, but Tori would have that covered. So he finished _The Little Mermaid_ because somewhere between ages eight and ten he'd forgotten the ending, shoved an energy bar down his throat and headed off on his own.

Cat met him at the door. There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Cat said sheepishly, "I was kinda afraid to go in alone."

He hefted his backpack a little higher on his shoulder. "No problem. Let's go."

He was waiting for her, of course. At her locker. Standing around like he owned the place. Beck could already tell by the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes this was not going to end well. He wasn't even glancing at a few hot girls in short shorts passing by.

Cat wound her arm through his and took a deep breath.

They both dropped their backpacks on the floor in front of Sinjin's locker and stood, shoulder to shoulder. Cat's face was screwed up in a cute little scowl probably meant to intimidate. "Daniel."

He turned his eyes on her, and she shrank. "Cat."

Beck decided to skip the small talk. "Why are you here?"

"I came for my girlfriend." The sleek mask was gone, and the rage underneath had Cat trembling. "And I'm not in a sharing mood."

"Neither am I," Beck said levelly, mentally calculating just how upset Cat would be if he throttled her boyfriend where he stood. "Sorry. Better luck next time."

"You don't speak for her," Daniel snapped. He held out a hand imperiously. "Come on, Cat. _Now_."

"Oh, hey Dan– what's going on?"

Tori, André and Robbie had rounded the corner. Tori hesitated, eyes darting between the terror on Cat's face and the murder on Beck's. Daniel, on the other hand, had melted into a smooth, easy smile.

"Hey, guys. I just came to talk to my girlfriend."

"Yeah, how'd you get here, Daniel?" Beck asked casually.

Daniel flushed. He snapped his fingers slightly, nearly shaking with suppressed fury. "Come on, let's go."

Cat shook her head.

"Baby," he said, now slightly tense. "That's not funny. Come on, I want to talk to you alone." He reached out to touch her cheek, but she stumbled back slightly. His eyes flashed. "Let's go. Now."

"I believe she said she didn't want to," Beck said tersely. André was starting to get the gist of what was going on; he moved so that he was flanking Beck, crossing his arms. His well-built frame was not lost on Daniel, who took a step back. Coward.

"Cat," he hissed, not even bothering to sound nice anymore. "Come here, you _stupid_ whore –"

Beck's rage turned him into a stranger. He felt his feet carry him forward without his prompting; his own roar of "_Son of a BITCH!_" rang in his ears from far away. He did feel his fist connect with Daniel's nose, though, and it felt _so_ good.

Things happened very quickly after that.

Cat screamed. Daniel reeled. Tori grabbed Beck's arm, but he shook her off and lunged. He slammed Daniel against the locker, but a knee to the groin left him empty-handed and wheezing. Daniel's fist connected with his mouth; blood welled. Daniel attempted to grab him by the shoulders, but he managed to get a fistful of his shirt and punched him in the stomach once, twice – Daniel fell, but hooked a leg around his, so they crashed to the ground, kicking and scuffling. He almost had him, his hands were inches from his throat –

Strong hands seized Beck's arms, and he was dragged upright, still lashing out at Daniel. Someone had Daniel by the arms, too, and soon they were both on their feet, glaring. Beck's lip was still bleeding; Daniel, pinned back by the guidance counselor, bore a striking resemblance to a panda. "Dude," André hissed in Beck's ear, releasing his arms, "get a grip."

Beck glared at him.

"How many times have I told you," Lane said exasperatedly, releasing Daniel, "stage fights are to be practiced _outside_ of school?"

"That," Robbie said from safely behind Tori, "was not a stage fight."

"Well, what happened?"

Daniel swiped at his bloody nose. "I'm so sorry, sir," he said, pointing at Beck. "That guy just absolutely _lost_ it! And I know for a fact he's been beating up on Cat – she's been going to his house and coming back with black eyes! I was just trying to protect my girlfriend, here," he added, slipping an arm around Cat's waist.

Lane looked at Beck. "Beck, is this true?"

"Hell, no! Sir," he added as Lane's eyebrows shot up. He shook his head, unconvinced.

"I have to say, I'm surprised. If we could have a word in my office –"

"NO!"

Everyone jumped and looked around. Cat had shoved Daniel away, shaking her head fiercely. She was standing straight, shoulders squared; her deep brown eyes were bright and fixed on Beck. When she spoke, it was for the whole school to hear. "Beck _never_ hit me! Beck loves me! He's been protecting me from _him!_" She pointed at Daniel, who froze. "You've hit me, you've hurt me, and now you hit Beck when he tried to protect me! I'm done with this!"

She shrugged her sweater off, letting it fall to the ground. Underneath was a tank top and a collage of bruises, some faded, some as black as they had been the night before. Without pausing, she yanked Robbie's water bottle from his backpack and poured some into her hand, splashing it over her face. She wiped her face with her sweater, revealing everything she'd tried so hard to cover: the bruises, the black eye, the slap mark. Beck was so stunned he almost forgot to be furious.

She turned back to Daniel. "You did this," she said, and her voice was angrier than Beck had ever heard her. "You did this to me, and you made me afraid to tell anyone, and you called me not nice names every time I did something you didn't like! You – you –" She swelled, struggling with a foul enough name.

"JERK!" she exploded. And slapped him across the face.

He staggered back, and then Beck was in front of her before he could retaliate. "Get out," he said in a low voice, sending Cat a look of fierce pride. André, Tori, and even Robbie slowly joined him, forming a protective wall in front of Cat. "Get out now, and don't you ever come back."

"Not so fast." Lane came up behind Beck. "My office, please. Believe me, there will be consequences for this." He grabbed Daniel by the scruff of the neck and lugged him away, howling empty threats as he went.

Beck felt someone tap on his shoulder, and turned around. Cat's fingers were immediately all over his lip, tugging and pressing on it lightly. "Does that hurt?"

A bit, but he wasn't sure where she was going with this. "Not really, I guess."

"Good." And she clasped her fingers behind his neck and pulled him down into a fierce kiss. His eyes widened in surprise, and then closed as joy exploded through every part of his body. His hands skimmed her face – no, that would hurt – her arms – no, she still hurt there, too – her waist, settling on her hips as he pulled her to him.

The bell rang. Students swarmed, then headed for class. Another ring; class had started. But Beck and Cat were still in the hallway, completely alone, wrapped around each other. One of her bracelets snagged in his hair. It would be a gloriously long time before either of them moved to untangle it.


	7. Perfect

**E****pilogue: Perfec****t**

So he watched. He watched her smile blossom again, her eyes shining with contentment. He watched the bruises fade, skin returning to flawless cream. He listened as she laughed more freely, squealing with delight over the littlest things. He watched her dance, watched her sing, watched her soar.

He bought three red velvet cupcakes and watched her eat them all, one after the other.

Summer rolled around, and with it a passel of bright-colored memories he would never, ever forget. The light, comfortable tan of lounging on the sofa with her curled up beside him because she swore he hadn't lived until he'd seen every Disney princess movie. The chocolate brown of swooping Oreos through peanut butter between _The Lion King_ and _Beauty and the Beast_. The rich green of his sofa as she fell asleep in his arms.

The bright blue of "kidnapping" her on her birthday, the sunshine yellow of her delighted shriek as he pulled off the blindfold at the beach. The pure gold of chasing her across the surf, splashing, dancing, shouting to the sky as if they didn't have a care in the world.

The vivid red of sunset as they picnicked on his RV roof, counting fireflies and waiting for fireworks. The silvery white of her cry as the first shower of fire spiraled into the air and exploded magnificently. The deepest, darkest blue as they danced together to the radio, under stars and sparks, every line of their bodies fitting as if they'd been made for this.

The shining, indefinable color of the future, together, no matter what would come. Forever and always, as she put it while they danced. Forever and always.

There was no naming that color, but Beck was fairly sure it looked a lot like a red velvet cupcake.


End file.
